Collision
by d00med
Summary: Human!Springbear. Two amateur musicians make a chance encounter, and come to find they have more than music in common. An unlikely meeting leads to the rise and fall of a spectacular pizzeria. (Main ship is Springbear (Spring Bonnie & Fredbear). Eventual hints of Frexy, Bonnica and other ships later on. Fluff, eventual smut and (possibly) a sad ending if its necessary.)
1. Common Grounds Cafe

Bonnie released a disappointed sigh as he stepped out of the building behind him, one arm reached around to pull the door closed behind him. The other fastened a tight grip on the strap of his guitar case, which was slung over his shoulder so that the case itself was bumping a little uncomfortably into his hip. He glanced around the street ahead of him as he hopped down the three steps and onto the pavement, watching passerbys as his head clustered with thoughts.

Usually he'd have a plan in mind for when things went wrong, but this had been his last hope. Not many places in town were employing musicians nowadays, as most of them either had plenty or simply weren't interested. The few advertisements he'd seen had been specifically asking for certain types of musician - all of which were definitely not applicable to him. It seemed like no one really had use for a guitarist right now unless he left the town and went looking further along the coast. The last appointment he'd just been to about a job had exclusively told him (while looking a little snobbish) that the music he had played was 'not the right type'. There was so much he could do with an acoustic guitar, obviously!

Bonnie kept himself lost in his thoughts as he took the all too familiar path back to his apartment, slinking like a shadow between the people walking in the opposite direction. It was noon so the majority of people prancing along this merry path were people shopping who had all the time in the world. Bonnie confirmed that assumption when a particular shopper bustled past with what he guessed were eight or so bags of boxes and clothing, which bumped against him uncomfortably as the path wasn't wide enough to get past otherwise.

He was out of options. He'd have to move out of the apartment and try and find another one elsewhere. The music industry well of this town had been tapped dry.  
It was subconsciously that he took a different route from the usual one, taking a turn without really noticing he was doing it. It was like he was trying to avoid going back for as long as possible, because he'd get home and then what? The path he'd taken was a small alley surrounded by grubby little houses that veiled most of the path in shadows, and was remotely silent.

He had just noticed he was unfamiliar with his surroundings and was about to turn around when he heard a distinct clinking, like cutlery. The sound seemed to wake up his stomach, which rumbled approvingly at the thought of food. Bonnie looked around him, running his eyes up the buildings looking for a sign that indicated a cafe or a restaurant, before they fell on a small corner cafe at the end of the street the path had taken him on. He realized the path had been a shortcut of sorts, and that it connected the main street to this smaller street. At least it was quieter.

The cafe in question was petite and cosy looking, dolled up ridiculously with boxes of flowers outside the door. Bonnie had never heard of any cafe called Common Grounds Cafe, which was ridiculous. Still, he wasn't going to fuss over names, as he stepped off of the pavement and crossed the burnt brick road to the door, pushing it open.

It was warm inside, and most of the room was captured by the sunlight through the glass, making it look more pleasant. Rather than small tables, the cafe had rounded seats and tables in corners. Each corner of the room had a speaker, and the display cases of food were opposite the door, curved around to hole off a corner that held a door which presumably led to the kitchen. The woman behind the counter was heavily in gossip with a customer, and, not wanting to get in the way, Bonnie instead went to sit down.

His shoulder was cramping from the weight of the guitar, so it was a relief to sit down and rest it on the edge of the table out of the way. He relaxed immediately into the cushions, thumbing through the small pamphlet that was on the table showing the snacks and food and drinks that the cafe served.  
He was so lost in comfort and the engrosing list of snacks that he didn't look up at other customers, not pay attention to who was coming in and out. So Bonnie didn't notice the figure push the door open, bearing a frantic expression as he shrugged off a small bag and hurried to the counter to speak to the woman behind the counter. The customer who had been gossiping looked put off by the intrusion.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I couldn't get a lift to the corner so I had to run here instead. I tried to call in advance but there wasn't any answer," The man said a little helplessly, one hand buried in the bag which eventually produced a key.

"Don't blame me if they dock money off of you for it, Fred, but its okay with me," The woman replied, reaching across the counter towards the hatch, unfastening it and opening it up. The man shimmied through the gap and vanished into the kitchen.

Bonnie, who had missed the entire thing, eventually settled on a latte and a lettuce and tomato sandwich, and slid out from behind the table to go and order. He was clueless to why the woman who had been gossiping simply threw her hands up in disgust and went to her seat, as well as the eye-roll of the woman behind the counter.

"Welcome to Common Grounds Cafe, the place where everything is served hot except the tunes. What can I get you?" She asked, not even looking at Bonnie and instead investigating her pinky nail. Bonnie placed his order promptly and waited, glancing back from time to time to his seat to ensure his guitar was okay.

He'd always been protective over the instrument, as it had been the reward of a struggle to save up money as a kid, and the only thing that guaranteed to keep his mood up. Whenever he'd been upset or angry or worried, he'd simply take his guitar out and play. One of the few memories he had of his father had been the times when, as a kid, he'd been upset, and his father had simply knelt down and asked him if he knew how to play a certain song. It would ensure several silly attempts, and end in peels of laughter between them. It was comforting.

Bonnie turned his attention back to the counter to watch his order being made. The woman was pursing her lips a little as her patience wore thin with the latte, which eventually fixed itself and resulted in her mouthing several relieved curses. Only then did Bonnie notice, while she was making the sandwich, the man slip out from behind the door, pushing it shut with his palm and ignoring everyone around him. He took the hatch in hand, slid out from behind the counter, and walked determinedly across the room, as though his sheer expression would make up for being late. Bonnie then noticed something else he had missed by chance.

The other corner of the room - aligned with the counter corner - was a small platform. It had been hard to see because no one had been on it, but the man he'd seen had just had to step up onto it, and who then promptly ducked down to forage through his bag. First he took out several metal cylinders, and stacked them to one side of the bag. Then he pulled out a base with three feet, which he spidered out and settled on the floor, before he pushed the cylinders in. The construction was so engrossing that Bonnie didn't even notice his food was ready until the woman behind the counter asked for his money.

Bonnie took his plate and mug back to his table, for the moment ignoring the stage as he made sure not to bump into anyone and spill it. When he sat down, his eyes fixated back onto the man, cupping his mug in his palms and blowing across the surface of the latte to cool it a little.

What had been a small base before now resembled a tall stand, which then bore a small claw-like shape on the top. It was this part that made Bonnie connect the dots, and his interest grew even more. It was a microphone stand, being wired up by the man who had came out of the back room. His stomach churned slightly in the realization that this cafe accepted performers. What if they were looking for another one?

By now everything had been plugged in and wired up, and the man was testing it out. He took the microphone in one hand, and spoke quietly and repeatedly into it, the other hand adjusting the dials of the box at his feet to check if it was working.

"I think I've got it now- Okay, there we go. Hi, ladies and gents, I'm Fredbear." Bonnie snorted slightly under his breath at the name, only just coming to realise that the man had a bear shape on his uniform. He took in the appearance of the man closer, taking note of him out of curiosity. He looked relatively young, for a start, with auburn hair cut short at the back, leaving a slight fringe at the front that fell across his eyes and that he had to brush to the side. His eyes were, at a glance, blue, but the longer looked at seemed to become silver. The bridge of his nose was peppered with faded freckles that spilled across his cheeks under his eyes. Despite the hideous mustard uniform and the silly bowtie, Bonnie wouldn't had assumed at a glance this man was working in cafes like this. He looked young and, even though he was talking calmly, his eyes held some enthusiasm in them. Clearly he liked what he was doing, but whether it was comedy or singing, Bonnie did not think that Fredbear should be working like this. He genuinely thought on sheer looks the man could probably make it big somewhere. Hell, he could probably model, though the idea made Bonnie swallow back a laugh at the mere idea.

He'd missed a lot of what Fredbear had been saying while he'd been distracted by his thoughts, and he shook himself back into focus, keenly listening to see what exactly Fredbear was here to do.

"Usually I'd start with something of my choice but I see a lot of frequents in here, so why not shout out a request?" That enthusiasm in the eyes was sparking up even more. Requests? That couldn't be comedy, surely. It had to be singing, or something vocal.

Around him, the few people in the cafe were eagerly making requests. Some of the quieter customers were occupied with their meals and drinks, or were simply flat out ignoring him. Bonnie set down the mug back into the saucer and rested forward a little on his palms, eyes glued. That voice at the back of his head was yelling at him to see if he could get a job at this place as long as it didn't provide such cruddy uniforms. It was small but at least it was better than playing on the streets for change. Bonnie didn't tell anyone that though - when he did it, he hid his face, and stored the change he gained away in his drawer in his apartment to save up.

"Okay, okay, you wanted the usual, I get it!" Fredbear laughed, brushing his hair out of his face again. The customers that had been making requests sat on eagerly as Fredbear turned to put the music on. It was a tune Bonnie recognized instantly - not from modern music, but from the music he'd heard on the radio when he was younger.

Quickly Bonnie found himself correct in thinking that Fredbear sang, but to call it simply singing was an understatement. He practically glowed as he sang his heart out into the microphone, often closing his eyes as though to blot out the cafe. He hit each pitch perfectly and it flowed together smoothly, as though the songs he was singing had been perfectly written for him. Bonnie was so shocked and captivated he didn't even notice when his latte went cold, and his sandwich laid half untouched. The hands on the clock were racing around and he never noticed a thing. It no longer felt like a cafe, but more like he was watching a legitimate singer perform infront of him.

All too soon though, Fredbear slowed to a stop on songs and disconnected the microphone to take a break for a drink. The world around Bonnie faded back into vision and he reached for his mug, bringing it up to his lips to take a drink to hide his gaping jaw. Unfortunately, having not noticed how long it had been, it was unpleasant to find the drink was cold, and he put the mug down, coughing slightly and shuddering in utter disgust.

"Hey there, you okay?"

Suddenly Fredbear was there, standing not far off and looking down at Bonnie with genuine concern, a glass of water in hand. Bonnie attempted to speak to tell him he was fine, but he merely swallowed back another cough and nodded his head.

"You need to be careful here. When they say they serve drinks hot, they mean it. Its why I always get water," Fredbear continued, sliding into a seat opposite Bonnie and loosening his bowtie with relief. The man clearly hadn't noticed that Bonnies drink was cold. "I haven't seen you in here before. Are you new to the place? Usually we only get tourists or people on work breaks."

"New," Bonnie confirmed, having found his voice again, "I just needed somewhere to stay a while. Its been a long day."

"I hear you on that," Fredbear rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers lightly against the glass, his nails making a clinking sound. "I hope you don't regret coming along. I mean- too hot drinks and, well, my cruddy singing-"

"You're not cruddy," Bonnie interrupted, "I'm surprised you're not professional. You could make it further than here, you know."

Fredbear laughed a little at that, "You think I haven't tried before? I looked for a long time. Auditioned all over the place, tried getting smaller parts. I only got this place because I came in here once to get a drink and subconsciously started singing at the table under my breath. They liked it so they told me to stick around. Apparently we're doing better now but I don't really believe them."

Bonnie didn't know what to say. His story was so alike Fredbears, but at the same time he couldn't go to a random place and start playing his guitar. At least singing was something you could do without being aware you're doing it sometimes. Guitars you manually had to get out and play. Upon thinking about his beloved instrument, Bonnies eyes fell onto his guitar case.

Fredbears eyes had found the guitar too. "You play? Are you a professional?"

This time it was Bonnies turn to laugh a little nervously, "No. I can't find work. I actually came here straight from an interview for a job. They turned me down."

"Acoustic?"

"Yeah."

"Hm." Fredbear tapped his thumbs lightly against his chin, pondering. "Are you going to stick around when you're finished?"

Bonnie was taken aback by the question. "Stick around?"

"I want to hear you play," Fredbear answered, "I'm curious. Usually all the music I have is pre-recorded. Sometimes its nice hearing something straight from the instrument."

"I'm not sure. How long do you want me to wait around?"

"Well the time is two'o'clock. We usually close up around five. There's a bar on the back of this place where the staff swaps to at night, so there's a two hour gap."

"A bar?" Bonnie glanced across the room to the door. Fredbear followed his gaze and went quiet for a split second, before he spoke again.

"I don't perform there, but yeah. I could show you but you don't work here so I think I'd get even more of a pay cut if I tried to show you. But the door leads to a hallway that divides the bar from the cafe. Halfway between the bar and cafe is the kitchen, so it serves both. There's also the break room and the bathroom, but they don't really matter. Only the people who work at the bar go in the break room."

"So you only work five hours?" Bonnie asked.

"Actually its flexible. Sometimes I'm in for longer, sometimes I'm in for a couple of hours," Fredbear replied, taking a sip from his drink. "So are you okay with that?"

"I don't know," Bonnie said uncertainly, "Three hours is a long time." He was careful not to mention he'd already been there two hours.

"Oh." Fredbear looked disappointed, scratching the back of his neck a little. Bonnie felt the twist of guilt in his gut at not being able to stick around, before he quickly spoke again.

"I could always come back before five," He offered. Fredbear looked up in surprise.

"Is that okay? I feel like I'm being a pain asking to hear you play - especially if you've come from a long way.."

Bonnie gave a short laugh.

"No no, I'm only a few blocks away. I can walk back here if you want."

"If you could, that would be great." Fredbears eyes were practically glimmering with excitement. He fumbled around in his pockets and produced a small keychain pen, reaching for one of the provided table napkins and scrawling something onto it, before offering it to Bonnie. Bonnie took it and looked down at the digits.

"That's my number in case they let me off early and I can't let you know. If I'm not here, give me a call." Fredbear drained his glass of water and began fixing his bowtie back up.

Bonnie didn't even think when he blurted out, "If I miss you, you could swing by my place if its easier?"

Fredbear stopped from getting out of the chair and looked at Bonnie, whose heart was pounding. He couldn't help it, Fredbear was nice and he could use a friend right now - particularly if said friend could help him find employment.

And then Fredbear simply said, "Sounds like a plan. I'll see you later, er-"

"Bonnie," Bonnie answered quickly, "My name is Bonnie Spring."

Fredbear laughed, "I'm half tempted to call you Spring Bonnie. It suits you though. I'm Fredbear, as you might have gathered-" He gestured to his bear shirt - "-But my real name is Freddy."

"Freddy," Bonnie said slowly, "Well. It was great meeting you Freddy. Maybe I'll see you later." The golden blonde slid out from behind the table, picking up the strap to the guitar case and towing it slightly over his shoulder again. Fortunately the ache from carrying it earlier had long gone.

Fredbear nodded, and turned to head back to the stage. As Bonnie reached the door, he did notice Fredbear giving him a little wave, and he couldn't help but smile awkwardly. It was always nice to make a new friend. And oh god did Bonnie need one now.


	2. Compose

The apartment was silent when Bonnie arrived back at it, tossing his keys into the bowl near the door and kicking his shoes off. He was still feeling a little shaken up by the turn of events at the cafe, and he wasn't sure what to do. He only wondered if he could weigh his hopes on Fredbear getting him a job at the cafe, at least. He didn't want to hope and hope about it and then find out there wasn't a chance.

So, instead, Bonnie put it out of his mind, and padded through the apartment to the hall, pushing the door to his bedroom open. It was arguably one of the biggest rooms in the apartment (but only if it counted that there was no wall between the kitchen and the living room) which was what he preferred even if it meant his bathroom was the size of the area under a set of stairs. His bed was pushed into the corner, made up as he always did in the morning, and it was towards it he went first, face planting onto the duvet and, rather than moving towards a pillow, pulling one down instead. His guitar case rolled off of his shoulder and laid on the bed next to him.

He was tired after getting up early for the interview, and he was tempted to sleep. But he couldn't guarantee he'd be awake before five, so he didn't risk it. He didn't feel like reading, or watching a movie, or doing anything at all. One of his hands grasped the guitar case a little, and he decided that if he was going to impress, he was going to at least keep fresh on the guitar.

It was so much easier to play without an audience, as he unzipped the casing and pulled the guitar out by the fret board. It was tuned fine already, and it was a beautifully polished oak acoustic guitar, clean to a t and perfect in every way. It was the only thing Bonnie felt he could really care about in his entire apartment.

Taking the body of the guitar under his elbow, he dropped his hand over the bridge and strummed the strings a little gently, just familiarizing himself with playing it. It was then he felt unsure of what to play. What did Fredbear even like? All of the songs he'd sang had been requests. Most songs Bonnie knew, well, he'd written himself. It was going to be tough to try and play something both of them knew. Maybe he could ask Fredbear what he wanted and then just.. try to play it. He wished he'd asked ahead of time.

As he played quietly, he let his thoughts drift. He'd never seen Fredbear at any interviews, nor any other job applications. He'd never even heard of him before. Surely that implicated that Fredbear had been at the cafe a while. He didn't even know how old the other man was but surely he couldn't have been there for very long. If Bonnie knew the current craze, the youngest musical artists - those around seventeen - were being swept up quickly to be transformed into sensations. Fredbear, at a guess, must be around twenty two. Maybe? Bonnie had no idea - he wasn't good with assuming ages. He himself barely scraped twenty three. He, with perfect grades in all musical classes, with a degree under his belt, yet no real skill in the areas that jobs mainly wanted - math, literature. He only had eyes for musical careers and they were all gone now. All of the chances. Gone. Maybe.

Back to Fredbear. He seemed friendly enough, and he could sing really well, so why was he holed up in a cafe? It made no sense. Bonnie wanted to know more, but he was admittedly afraid to ask. He wanted to make a friend out of Fredbear, but he'd been isolated for so long it felt like a mountain of a task to even talk to someone else without stumbling over his words.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror at the thoughts, taking in his pale skin, his autumn leaf eyes that seemed too big for his face, his untidy golden blonde hair that looked worse for ware after the stressful day. Maybe he should tidy himself up before he went back. He didn't want to seem untidy to Fredbear. It would be distasteful to turn up looking like he'd been hectically running several marathons.

Realization fell upon Bonnie just then that he'd been in the cafe looking exactly like he did merely half an hour ago. He'd dragged himself into there looking like shit and Fredbear had still made conversation with him nonetheless. His expression relaxed with the sudden thought, and he could feel the embarrassment welling up as he felt severely untidy in comparison to the bear-shirted man. Still, it was comforting to know that his appearance hadn't made that much of an effect on the topic of conversation he'd had.

Though with that thought..

Bonnie put down the guitar gently, cracking his knuckles softly under his palms before he got to his feet and padded across the carpet to the mirror itself. Usually he kept most of his grooming equipment in the bathroom, but some mornings having a mirror in his own room was more effective. It meant he wasn't hopping from room to room just as much. He plucked the fine-toothed comb from the desk and began combing through the straggly strands of his messy hair, thinking all the while of what he could play.

By the time the clocks hands swung around closer to five'o'clock, Bonnie still hadn't decided on what to play, but had made somewhat of an effort to make himself look more presentable and less like a train wreck. He'd tidied himself up just enough to look okay, and he'd changed from the formal clothing he'd worn to the interview into a simple shirt, an unbuttoned shirt over the top and jeans. Somehow mimicking looking relatively cool was easy, though he didn't care to try it often.

He rested his guitar back into the case and dragged the teeth of the zip back across to secure it, pausing to adjust the strap so he could carry it across the body instead. It would be better that way, especially since carrying it on his shoulder always made it hurt and made him think he'd play even worse.

His fingers circled the bowl to pluck his keys out and he stepped out of the door, towing it closed behind him and locking it firmly. After testing the handle, he shoved them in his pocket and made his way to the stairs, taking two at a time. Bonnie knew he didn't have to hurry so much but the sooner he got there the less likely he'd be late and be left standing outside the cafe awkwardly. He couldn't miss his chance to (maybe) find a job at last.

Fortunately, most of the shoppers were gone, so the pavements were clear of people. Bonnie moved into a brisk walk, occasionally checking his watch and cursing in his head as the big hand on his watch swung closer and closer to twelve. He ducked down the alley and traced his steps in his mind, keeping his eyes peeled for the cafes sign above.

Fortunately, it wasn't hard to find with its gross amount of flowers outside, and Bonnie only gave himself a matter of seconds to catch his breath before going inside. As promised, it was relatively empty inside, with only the woman behind the counter ringing up and Fredbear dismantling his microphone on the stage, packing it back into his bag. He looked up as Bonnie approached, and chose not to comment on how much it looked like Bonnie had ran all the way.

"Glad you made it. Fortunately they didn't let me off early- or unfortunately, I guess," Fredbear laughed, "I think my lungs are aching from all the singing I had to do today."

Bonnie didn't know what to say, and so he just did his best to grin it off, rubbing his cheek with his palm. He didn't want Fredbear to see how nervous he was about the exchange. He was hoping pretty damn badly right now that he'd get a job out of this - even a little one. Something to save him from hiding out on the pavement playing guitar for payment.

Fredbear maintained a light smile playing on his face, straightening up and brushing his hair out of his eyes again. "Sorry that I took down the microphone. I didn't think I'd have time to pack it after. But-!" He cut off as he sharply made a move to fumble around in one of his pockets, surprising Bonnie. A split second later, the auburn produced a set of keys, waving them around and snaking the metal discs between his fingers. "I got the keys!"

"The cafe keys?" Bonnie guessed, tugging the strap of his guitar case over his head and resting it on one of the nearby tables. Something about seeing the set of jingling keys made Bonnie feel more relaxed, though he could only put a finger on why when Fredbear said it.

"I asked if I could borrow them and lock up tonight. I told them I wanted to try some new songs. I just have to chuck them over the bar when I'm done so I don't leave with them," Fredbear grinned, dropping the keys unceremoniously onto the table next to the guitar.

"No pressure," Bonnie said truthfully, leaning against the table on his palms as Fredbear resumed packing his microphone up.

"No pressure," Fredbear agreed, closing the teeth of the bag and tossing it onto the cushy booth chair. "You don't have to whip out your guitar right now and play if you want. Its probably nerve-wrecking to randomly play a tune for a complete stranger. I should know, I have to sing for plenty of strangers."

"Its really the fact that I don't know what to play," Bonnie admitted, glancing again at his guitar case as though the answer could leap from the strings inside. Fredbear followed his glance.

"Take your time," He commented, as Bonnie finally moved to retrieve the instrument, taking it again by the neck and holding it around the body nervously. He moved across to the stage and sat down on the edge of it, feeling a little more grounded. Fredbear, after a pause, sat down next to him, doing his best not to look too eager.

"I have to say that, well.." Bonnie took a breath, "I mainly compose my own songs on the guitar. Not lyrics, just.. just tunes. And I was wondering.."

"Go on," Fredbear encouraged, though his changing expression implied he already knew what Bonnie was going to say. He was a master at reading tones and expressions and Bonnie wasn't exactly the least expressive person he'd ever met.

"I'm- I'm really down without a job right now. I just need to find somewhere - anywhere, just to keep me secure in my apartment." Bonnie shook off his anxiety with a short laugh, "Here I am, telling my insecurities to a complete stranger. I'm probably the weirdest customer ever, aren't I? I just came in here hoping for work, after all."

"That's not weird, that's common sense," Fredbear replied, "You weren't thinking about it until you realized I did live singing here, did you? Or so I guess, because you weren't interested when you were tucked up at the table when I arrived."

"You noticed?" Bonnie looked taken aback.

"I noticed your guitar first," Fredbear said, gesturing to the body of it, "We don't get many- er, any - musicians in the cafe. If there were any we'd have tried to find them."

"Is that why you wanted to hear me perform?" Bonnie felt a little out of the loop regarding how they'd both subconsciously been thinking about the same thing the entire time.

"Well, no," Fredbear admitted, "I just wanted to hear what you could play. I'm even more interested now that you said you compose your own tunes. Did you ever consider getting into song writing, or composing itself?"

"Its part and parcel. I like composing and playing my own pieces. Its not as fun doing one without the other, but the playing felt like it was the easiest way to get a job," Bonnie said quietly, strumming the strings upwards.

There was a brief silence, as Bonnie thumbed the guitar strings and Fredbear sank back into thought. The only noise was distantly coming from the kitchen, where the clinking of plates and cutlery had moved to after the cafe had closed. The woman behind the counter had vanished off on her own accord, so the cafe was down to the two of them.

Fredbear studied the man sitting next to him with some thought, taking in the nerves that were being expressed and found he was unable to help but feel pity towards him. Singers were getting further than guitarists right now, and he himself had barely made it into a job. But Bonnie didn't seem to be having as much luck as he was, and Fredbear could tell simply by the way that Bonnie pursed his lips and drew the bottom one back to bite on it nervously, the twitching of his fingers as he plucked the strings, and the very fine shaking he'd seen when the man had entered the cafe minutes ago.

"Play me one of your tunes," Fredbear spoke after a few moments. Bonnie didn't answer, and remained quiet for a split second, before he brought his hand up to the neck of the guitar, moving his other hand over the strings, and began playing. It was a soft acoustic tune, the kind that make the listener long to close their eyes simply so they can take the entirety of the music in like drinking down a cold drink on a warm day. Fredbear sat back a little on the stage and closed his eyes, shutting off his mind so he was only listening and not being distracted by his own thoughts.

The melody barely reached the rest of the room, but with confidence Bonnies tune grew a little louder, and began echoing around the empty tables and chairs soothingly. He felt enveloped into his own music, as though the tune itself were a comforting hug that had wrapped its arms around him and held him close like a friend or a parent, reassuring him and making him feel like he wasn't failing. His own eyes closed and he lost himself to the strings of music, feeling for the first time that day genuinely soothed. Fredbears music had been entertaining and pleasant, but sometimes Bonnie preferred the gentle sound of an acoustic guitar.

When the tune came to an end, Bonnie did not open his eyes. He simply held his guitar to him, neck of it still in one palm and fingers still resting on the strings. He could hear Fredbear sitting upright beside him, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Bonnie, that was incredible," he heard Fredbear say, "I've never heard anything like it. Most things nowadays are either too blaring or too tuneless. That was perfect, and I can't say how honored I am to have heard it."

Bonnie still didn't speak, though a faint tremble met his shoulders in relief. At least Fredbear liked it. He moved to unstring the guitar from over his body and settle it resting against the stage, propped up.

"I'm going to talk to the manager," Fredbear continued, "We can work something out. Maybe I can write some lyrics to your tunes - that is, if it's okay. If not we can play something already made if you want."

Fredbear had barely finished speaking when he was caught out by a surprise hug from the other, who remained shaking unsteadily with relief. His widened eyes settled and his eyebrows relaxed as he smiled warmly, giving Bonnie a gentle pat on the back in comfort.

"Thank you," Bonnie whispered.


	3. Bears and Bunnies

"Wait here, I just need to go and hand these in," Fredbear told Bonnie as he finished locking the door of the cafe. From around the corner, on the other side of the building, the sound of the bar was progressively getting louder, and it made conversation much harder. Bonnie nodded, trying not to chatter his teeth together too much.

The problem was that as soon as they'd left the cafe, they'd found what had once been warm sunlight had transformed into a nasty spot of torrential rain. It was haring it down heavily and attacking the buildings with heavy droplets, and Bonnie wasn't looking forward to running back to the apartment through it. He didn't know how far Fredbear had to go to get home but he hoped it wasn't as far. The last thing either of them needed was pneumonia.

His guitar had been put back in the case and swung over his torso again. It was practical to carry it that way and he felt more comfortable with it being carried like that when he wasn't trying to make a good first impression with formal wear. However, his arms were bare thanks to his lack of sleeves, and he felt that despite wearing two shirts he probably would still be soaked through by the end of the dart to cover.

Fredbear reappeared out of the rain a few moments later, his own bag over his shoulder. The night was beginning to set in in typical autumn fashion and it was hard to make out much more than his face in the dark, which seemed to be illuminated by his spectacularly blue eyes. "I'm not looking forward to running through this."

"If it wasn't night time we could have probably stayed inside and waited for it to stop," Bonnie agreed, glancing down the street into the darkness, "How far away do you live?"

"A while away. Usually I get a ride and then walk home but usually the walking home part is more leisurely and with less rain. I did arrange to get a lift home today though." Fredbear pushed his hair out of his face, and thankfully the rain made it stick to the side. "You can camp out at my place if you think that's easier. At least then we could go over the job again."

"I don't have anything but my guitar with me though," Bonnie chattered, squinting as the moon began to come into view in the sky as the clouds shifted along. It was appealing to stay somewhere other than his crappy apartment, and after talking to Fredbear for the past few hours it wasn't like he'd be with a stranger. But he literally had nothing else with him and he didn't want to be a burden.

"We'll figure something out. If you'd rather go to your apartment though, I'd understand," Fredbear replied, though something about him did seem disappointed. Bonnie considered a little more, not wanting to seem in the way but not wanting to take the longer route back to the apartment.

"I just don't want to be a burden to you," He admitted. Fredbear looked a little shocked by the comment, and shook his head, causing droplets to bounce off of his already beginning to soak hair.

"Its not a problem! I'd just feel guilty if I got home warm and dry and then you had to hike through this rain. I already arranged the lift so I can't change that either, though I can make arrangements to take you home as soon as possible if you prefer."

Bonnie glanced at the shorter man and felt a pang of guilt himself, thumbing the strap of his guitar for a moment. He couldn't refuse help, especially since the rain was getting worse and worse.

"Alright," He said finally.

It was another three minute wait before the car pulled up, and Fredbear gestured for Bonnie to get in while he spoke quietly with the driver. Bonnie craned his neck from his seat to see if he could get a glimpse of the driver, but all he could see was dark hair and hunched shoulders, thin fingers clutching the steering wheel tightly. He was just tilting to get a better look when Fredbear climbed in next to him, shutting the car door and fumbling with his seat belt.

"I just had a word with the driver. He said to give him a call when you're ready to head home. But apparently hes not turning out after eleven," Fredbear murmured, eyes still fixed on the driver. Bonnie appreciated that Fredbear had at least tried to talk to the driver about it. He could see why the driver wanted to get home as soon as possible - the rain wasn't letting up and it was cascading in vast rivers down the windshield, which the wipers battled to wipe away. Hopefully it would stop soon.

"My house isn't very fancy," Fredbear stated anxiously after a while, turned away a little to try and look out of the window, "But I do have a room dedicated to music, so I thought it might help. I don't play instruments but I do have a few that I wish I could learn. I just never get time to practice."

"At least you're not in an apartment," Bonnie rolled his eyes, feeling that a house was far more fancy than an apartment in any case. Fredbear glanced at him then, unsure of what to say.

"Its not much of an improvement," He said finally, "Its small enough that most of it could probably squeeze into an apartment. I could only afford it thanks to the-" He cut himself off and turned away again, suddenly interested in a particular droplet of rain running down the window. Bonnie was tempted to ask, but felt as though he'd be intruding in doing so, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the steady friendship with Fredbear.

The rest of the short ride was silent, with nerves ringing between the two. Neither knew what to say at this point, and simply hoped general conversation would surface again. As the car pulled up to the pavement outside the house, Fredbear gave Bonnie a timid glance before he got out of the car, tugging the bag back onto his shoulder and holding the door open for his friend.

Bonnie slid across the backseat to the open door, and from there he got a glimpse of Fredbears house. It seemed like a typical two-story house, made out of bricks and thankfully not ruined with paint. The only paint visible was around the door, making the entrance practically glow in the dark. Unfortunately it was too dark to see much more, but Bonnie could definitely say it was bigger than his apartment, which felt puny in comparison. Sure Fredbear didn't have a huge manor house, but even a little two-story house like this was better than what he had.

He made his way up the path with Fredbear a little way behind him, as the auburn had had to wave the driver off for now. Something told Bonnie that Fredbear was avoiding looking at him purely because of how ashamed he felt of his house, which was unreasonable.

"Let me just get the door-" Fredbear said quickly, brushing past to unlock it. Fortunately the door had a cover to it, so Bonnie felt a little more dry standing under it than he would have had it not been covered. He was ushered inside by the other and stood awkwardly in the hallway as Fredbear closed the door, feeling across the walls to try and find the light switch in the dark.

"Sorry- I don't usually get back this late so I don't usually have to worry about finding the switch in the dark- Okay, here it is." He flicked the light switch on, and the bulbs lit up the dark, revealing a pleasant open hallway. There were no walls separating the hallway and the living room, which had laminate flooring that was only intruded by a medium-sized square cream rug in the center. Upon the rug was a coffee table sporting several books that had been obviously plucked from the shelves of the built-in bookcase across the room. Surrounding the table were two crimson couches - one a three-seater, the other a two-seater. By the bookcase was a matching crimson armchair, and all three seating surfaces sported cream cushions that matched the rug. Against the wall, just underneath the window, was a relatively small television set that sat on a small table, with the remote neatly set beside it.

If this was the first room Bonnie saw, he was definitely preferring Fredbears living accommodations rather than his own. He didn't even realize his jaw was open until Fredbear pushed it closed when he walked past to put his bag down.

"Its not worth that," Fredbear teased, folding his arms and resting on the arm of one of the couches, looking at Bonnie and doing his best to read his expression. Bonnie could only slide the strap of his guitar case off of his shoulder and set it down, putting one foot behind the other and taking off his shoes. He then picked them up and put them next to the door, before turning back to Fredbear.

"Oh- Hang on, sorry. I'm an awful host-" Fredbear vanished into a nearby room for a split second, and returned with a towel in his hand, offering it to Bonnie sheepishly. Bonnie took it gratefully and began drying out his hair, hoping that it wouldn't go fluffy like it normally did. It looked stupid when it did.

Fredbear looked unsure of what to say, glancing around his living room and back to Bonnie. He wasn't used to having company in his house, and most nights he'd be in his music room singing in preparation for the next day. He had to admit he liked being on his own - when on some days when he wasn't working he'd be free to walk around as he pleased, making whatever food he pleased and then doing whatever he pleased. He liked having someone else to talk to, but when he was the host of a home it made it incredibly hard to know what to do and what not to do.

"What do I do with-" Bonnie began to ask, holding out the towel. Fredbear took it and vanished back into the bathroom, dropping it into the wash basket, before briefly giving his own hair a rub down. He had to keep it together and not be independent with a guest around. He was supposed to be working with Bonnie, so he'd have to involve Bonnie around the house. He couldn't vanish off on his own like normal. So, when he came out of the bathroom, he gestured to the stairs.

"I could always show you the music room. If you want to change first you have free pick of my wardrobe," Fredbear suggested. Bonnie looked surprised at the courteous offer, and looked at his feet.

"Usually I'd say I'm okay with what I'm wearing, but then I remembered how much of a pain jeans can be when they're wet," he laughed. Fredbear, who was not wearing jeans, could understand. If he'd been wearing jeans he'd have hated to be walking around with them soaked through.

"My room is the second room on the right. The music room is opposite. Do you want me to take your guitar up for you?"

"Yes please," Bonnie answered, shrugging off the button shirt, which had almost gone transparent. After retrieving the bags, Fredbear beckoned for the other to follow him, and began to ascend the stairs. The upstairs hallway was relatively short and small, but did house four doors along the walls - two on one side, one on the other, and one right at the end. Fredbear stopped before reaching the end door, and decided to simply give Bonnie the upstairs tour for now. He pointed to each door in turn as he labelled them off - first the first door on the right, then the second, then the end door, then the only door on the left.

"Guest room, my room, bathroom, music room," He informed, "Like I said, just pick anything from my room if you want. If you want to clean up, the bathrooms right here. I'll be in the music room setting up."

"Thanks, Freddy," Bonnie said warmly, smiling lightly. Fredbear found himself smiling back.

"No problem."

As Bonnie vanished into Fredbears room, Fredbear found himself staring after him for a split second. The smile remained on his face, and he turned towards the music room, leaving the door open behind him as he carried the bags inside. The music room was relatively bare, and simply held a single couch in the corner along with a display cabinet to the side of it. Across the room was an entirely bare corner, and in the opposite corner a table and chair where he wrote. Fredbear hadn't been sure what else to put in it, as the instruments he had were stacked in their boxes next to the display cabinet where he kept his sheet music and his lyric papers. He'd specifically installed lights that were not switches in this particular room, but rather ones that were rotated so as to make the room dim if needed. Atmosphere was everything when it came to performing, and if he needed it to be darker, he could simply turn the lights down to make it dimmer and darker just like that.

He carefully set the guitar down propped against the couch for Bonnie and turned to the bare corner, setting down the microphone bag. He wished he could have two separate microphones and didn't have to keep setting it up and taking it down, but he really couldn't afford it right now - especially if his pay was docked for being late.

As he fixed the stand, his thoughts drifted to the man in the other room. He'd only known Bonnie for nine hours - give or take - and already he felt like he'd made a close friend. Their discussion back at the cafe had been generic to begin with after the music discussion, but after a while they'd started talking about their interests more, and it felt like they had a lot in common from the get-go. It was a wonder they hadn't met before now, since they'd both been looking for jobs. However, Fredbear felt he couldn't talk to the other about his previous job - at least, not now. He'd be ridiculed for it, surely. He glanced at the cabinet across the room, which locked away the works of his previous job, and bit his lip. He'd have to make sure Bonnie didn't find it. He didn't want to be humiliated by crushed childhood dreams, after all.

He stood up to set the microphone up on top, slotting it into the jaws of the hold, and trailing the wires back to the speakers, making sure everything was in place. There was no guarantee he'd need the microphone tonight but he'd rather have it set up just in case he did.

"Sorry I took so long, I was indecisive about what to pick," Bonnies voice came from the door as the golden blonde stepped into the music room, taking in his surroundings and trying not to drop his jaw again. He'd found a simple black button-up shirt and some dry jeans, which worked pretty nicely together, Fredbear thought. It was only in that brief moment when Bonnie came into the room looking refreshed did Fredbear take the man in entirely, and his heart was fluttering only mildly. Must be nerves.

"Half of your clothes have bears on them, man," Bonnie complained, rolling his eyes with an amused grin. Fredbear chuckled a little at that, taking a brief glance at the bear shirt he was still wearing and shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"What can I say? I love bears. How do you think I got my nickname?" He teased as Bonnie sat down on the couch, unzipping the case to retrieve his guitar.

"You just need the ears to go with your name. Imagine being a worldwide artist famous not only for your voice but for your bear theme," Bonnie laughed.

"Don't tempt me. I would do it. I am personally letting you know now that I would be the worlds most famous bear," Fredbear stated, smiling as he moved to join Bonnie.

"So you're a bear, what does that make me?" Bonnie asked, looking entertained by the thought.

"You're obviously a bunny because you're so twitchy and jumpy," Fredbear replied.

"I'm not jumpy at all!" Bonnie complained, which was in poor timing, because three seconds later Fredbear put his hands on Bonnies shoulders suddenly. "Boo!"

Bonnie jumped, and looked put out as Fredbear laughed hysterically, but eventually he had to start laughing too.


End file.
